Tiny Hand


Fleshy, annoying vomit launchers - a.k.a. CHILDREN!

Our planet is faced with an unbearable epidemic. Millions, maybe even billions of people suffer from it. The affliction can be found all over the world, in all countries and among every social class and culture. And while you're reading these words, more and more people become victims of this pain- and sorrow-bringing catastrophe.


Not too long ago, I was one of the infected. Luckily, I could distance myself from the harm by getting older and growing taller and therefore becoming what a human being should be like.

I've always been a very open-minded and understanding person, even in the craziest situations. But there's something about these spawns from the devil that pushes my buttons. They act like little angels, but before you know it, they change into something horrible! They become tiny ghouls from hell, crazy Gollums of fear and desaster.
A few years ago, a little kid named Max (great, a namesake -.-) got overly excited and psyched and threw an extremely heavy keychain at my head - I guess to get my attention. All I got from the hit was a little bruise on my forehead. But the fact that this Mini-Me on crack had the NERVES to throw a hard object at me got me so angry that I shouted at him in my Serious-Hulk-voice, which I never used ever since. Friends told me afterwards that they never saw me this enraged ever before. This experience definitely had an effect on how I think about children and since that incident, kiddies are on my red list.

Whenever I see a child or several children at once without a warning, I freak out. I don't want them near me, I don't want them to breath the same air as me, I don't want to share a room with them, I want them inside their homes, faaaar away from me. I always feel the urge to hurt them in a way, even if it's only by saying that Santa isn't real. It's just like pokémon. A wild child appears, so the inevitable reaction is to throw a pokéball at it, right? And if the pokéball happens to be a book, a plate or a rock, then so be it.

My disgust towards them gets a little out of hand sometimes, which is why I associate everything that is nasty, gross and irritating with them.
The younger, the worse.

Babies are the worst of the infected. They shit, they barf, they drool, they scream, they stink and they can't do anything by themselves except for being annoying. They are like pink slime balls with eyes. Like disgusting, babbling snot-making-machines. They're just blegh.
To be fair, people like them for a reason. They CAN be adorable at times... and when a little human-thingy smiles at me with its big doll eyes that sparkle with the innocent joy of life, something in my belly goes "AAWWWWWWW!!!"... But the GOSH-IT'S-SO-CUTE!-paralysis doesn't take longer than a few seconds..

Maybe it's the responsibility that scares me. Because they are so clumsy and unknowing, they need someone around them all the time. And I don't know if I could take care of a fragile flesh-ball. I also don't think that I'd be a good father. My kids would suffer, even if I tried my best to keep 'em happy/alive.
Lion King gone wrong.

I guess I need to find a pressure-release-valve for all the negative energy that I got going on. If I don't, kids might get hurt. Like, for real. Don't let them near me!

Oh, can you hear that? I think it's the sound of a sudden and presumptuous change of the subject!
Or maybe one of the following tunes. Let's find out! ;D


~music time~

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